Chance Meeting
by Bellantara
Summary: AU Story. Newly-graduated Commander Sven Holgersson rescues a naive young girl from unwanted attention in a bar, and spends the night with her. Problem is, she's the runaway Princess Romelle of Planet Pollux. . . . .
1. Chapter 1

_**Sven**_

She does not belong here. Oh, she is trying to fit in, in her tight jeans and little white tank top, but. . . I know she is not of the Academy, and she does not have the . . . toughness of this bar's other regulars. So . . . fresh meat is she here. Tiny, with a blonde ponytail and ocean blue eyes, she's a lost baby bird here. And the hungry cats are moving in for the kill; a sleazy looking drunk is approaching from one side, and from the other. . .oh no. Not those two. Lance McClain and Cliff Sheffield, two of my closest friends. . .and the two biggest Casanovas in our year. The little one would just be another conquest to them, and I cannot allow that. She is too exquisite to be wasted in such fashion, and so I abandon my drink and move to intercept them.

Lance sees me first. "Not now, Holgersson. Got business to take care of here." He tries to push by me with his usual cocky grin; Pidge would have more success moving Hunk.

"Not with her, you do not." I say it in my coldest tone, staying between him and the little one. "She is not going to be one of your conquests, Lance." My right hand snaps out and catches Sheffield by his collar. "Nor will she be yours, _mate._"

They both blink at me; typically, Lance finds his voice first. "You've GOT to be kidding, Viking. . . ." his voice trails off as he looks at me closer, then smiles slowly. "Well, why didn't you just SAY you saw her first? Come on, Cliff, plenty of other lovely ladies begging for us, and I'm not going to stand in the way of Holgersson finally getting laid!" The two laugh as they walk off, new prey already in their sights, and I turn my attention back to the little one, to find she's in trouble. . .

_**Romelle**_

It feels so good to be away from them, to finally slip the leash my father and my brother Avok hold so tightly. I just want to have some fun, to be able to _breathe_ a little before I step into the marriage prison they have arranged for me. So I begged clothes from one of the embassy staffers, waited until Father and Avok were drunk senseless as usual, and slipped into the night. Just around the corner from our accommodations, I found a tavern full of people my age, all laughing and having a good time. It seemed like a place to have some fun, without giving myself away, so I slipped in and made my way to the bar. Five minutes later, I have a glass of a red wine far superior to anything we have on Pollux, and am trying to figure out what to do next when a hand drops on my shoulder.

"All alone, sugar? Why don't I keep you company?" A freckled face leers at me, looming into my personal space reeking of alcohol fumes. I automatically look for Roman, my personal guard, to deal with the unwanted attention, but. . I left him back at the embassy. While I'm trying to come up with a response, the drunk takes my silence for assent and moves closer, his hand groping at my breast. "Yeah, me and you c'n have some fun, blondie. . .have you screaming my name in no time. . ."

"Except dat de lady vas vaiting for me, and your pathetic, drunken, attempt at a pass is not velcome." The strangely accented voice behind me is cold, with enough intimidation in it to make even my father hesitate. I turn to see a tall young man, a bit older than me, with broad shoulders, hair so black I can see blue highlights in it, and deep blue eyes in a strikingly handsome face. That face is set in a dark scowl, but. . .there's something more there. Something that could be worth knowing.

The drunk isn't fazed by him. "You're late, you miss out, dude. Now, private conversation here, if you don't mind. . . " He turns his back to the newcomer, leering at me and bringing his hand back to my breast. Or at least trying to. The newcomer's hand locks around his arm, spinning him around. "What'sh your problem, buddy?"

"You are my problem. Und de lady's. I vill not ask you again to leaf." Impossibly, the scowl darkens, and I find myself backing up.

"'Scuse me, sugar. This'll only take a minute. . ." the drunk plants a disgusting kiss on me and spins to face my rescuer, swinging what looks like a vicious punch. Impossibly, the other man catches his fist and squeezes until I can hear bones cracking.

"I told you to leaf her alone. Now, are you going to valk avay quietly, or vill dis get ugly?" He's perfectly calm, but there's a dark menace in his tone that's unmistakable. Before things go any further, two more men come up, latching onto the drunk, apologizing frantically to "Commander Holgersson" before dragging their friend away. My rescuer, presumably Commander Holgersson, watches them leave, then turns to me with that dark scowl. I squeak in spite of myself and shrink away from him. "Are you all right, Miss?" I open my mouth to answer, but can't make the words come. All I can do is look up at him mutely, wondering what he's going to do next.

_**Sven**_

As the drunken idiot that is usually one of my classmates is hauled off by his friends, I turn to the little one, asking if she's all right. She's trembling, looking up at me with those big blue eyes as though she thinks I will eat her. It should not surprise me; she does not know me, and I know I'm very intimidating if I do not make an effort to be otherwise. Slowly I sit on the barstool next to her, keeping my hands in view and as much space between us as I can. "It's all right, I vill not harm you," I say softly. "My name is Sven; I chust did not vant you hurt. May I stay vit you, buy you anoder drink?"

Those blue eyes are still filled with uncertainty. "How do I know I can trust you? You could be anyone, just setting me up to take me yourself!"

"I could, but I am not," I sigh. "I chust graduated de Garrison Academy; I am not going to sabotage my career by assaulting young vomen in bars." I tap my wristcom, and show her my brand new ID as Commander Sven Holgersson. "I can tell you are accustomed to a. . . more elegant setting," I say softly, as she reads my ID. "Perhaps it vill help to show you dat. . I am not unfamiliar vit such."

A couple of taps, and my wristcom display brings up the ID that I only show in dire emergencies. The little one reads it carefully, then those blue eyes fly up to study my face. "You. . .your mother is a provincial governor here on Earth? Then why are you here, playing at being a common soldier?"

Lance has mocked me for that often enough that it no longer brings the anger it used to, and I can smile at the little one. "I play at nothing. My parents loved me enough to let me choose my own path, and it led me to the Academy and navigation training—" _amongst other things_, I think, "and they haf supported me de whole time I haf been here."

Something flickers across her face at that, but it's gone before I can read it. "It must be nice, to choose your own destiny. I must steal time where I may, to have the simplest amusements. . .Sven. You may call me.. . .Romelle. Just Romelle."

"A pleasure, Romelle." I bow over her hand as my grandmother drilled into me, lightly brushing my lips over the back of it. As I straighten, I see Romelle's drunken would-be suitor shaking his friends off and heading our way. With larger, drunker friends, presumably to hold me at bay. "Listen, I realize dat you do not know me at all, but. . .it is not safe here. May I valk you home?"

That look flickers across her face again, and she grabs my hand. "Please. . . it is not easy for me to get away from my family. I don't want to go home yet. Is there somewhere nearby we could go?"

She looks so desperate, I can scarcely tell her no. "Ja, there is a carnival down on the boardwalk we can go to."

"Carnival? Boardwalk? I do not know these things."

"Oh, den ve vill haf fun, _lille_." I stand up and hand her to her feet, nodding to the bartender to debit my Garrison account for my drink and hers. "I promise, dis vill be de best night of your life."

She looks up at me as we walk out. "What does that mean.. . .lille? I thought I was fluent in English, but I do not recognize that word."

To my surprise, I feel myself blush. "No, you vouldn't; it is not English. It is from Norvegian, my native language, und it means. . .little von. I will stop if you do not like it, but I tought it fit you."

Her blush matches mine. "No, I. . .like it. It is very. . .sweet. Thank you, Sven." Her smile dazzles me as we step into the street.

_**Romelle**_

Bright Goddess, what am I doing? I am Princess of Pollux, I go nowhere without a guard and one of my maids, yet. . . not 12 hours on this planet, and I'm going off alone, first to a bar, then out into the night with a stranger whose name I barely know. But. . .there's something about Sven, something that makes me instinctively trust him. He didn't have to intervene with the drunk that accosted me, but he did, and now. . as we walk down the street, he's as warm and attentive to me as the other young men I see are with their chosen ladies. I steal looks at him as we walk down the street, admiring the muscles that ripple under his black shirt and jeans as we walk. He glances over and catches me looking, giving me a smile that makes me blush down to my toes. Goddess, how can a man I just met give me such tingly feelings?

As we walk, a breeze springs up, cool and smelling of the nearby ocean. In spite of myself and all my royal training, I can't help a shiver. Sven looks over at me, and an unreadable expression crosses his face. Next thing I know, he's unbuttoning his shirt and wrapping it around my shoulders, leaving himself in another black shirt with short sleeves that hugs his body almost indecently. I have to protest. "But . . . I can't take your shirt! YOU will be cold!"

Sven just laughs, a dark sound that makes me want to curl up with him. "Do not worry, lille Romelle. My homeland is bitterly cold; this is a warm spring night to me. I vill be fine." Reassured, I wrap his shirt tightly around me. It's made of a silk finer than any gown I have ever possessed, and carries not only the heat of his body, but a wonderfully intoxicating scent of fresh snow and pines. I inhale it deeply, and Sven looks at me with a soft smile that melts my insides. "Better, _lille_?" I nod, and he hesitantly takes my hand. "Come on; dere is a lot to see and do." That smile flashes again, encouraging me to walk with him into a dizzying whirl of lights, noise, and smells.

_**Sven**_

_Min gud_, I hardly recognize myself! First to approach a strange girl in a bar, then to take her out? Keith would lecture me on how this could be some sort of vague trap; Lance would just grin and say it was about time I got lucky. But. . . this is different, somehow. _Romelle_ is different. She's got a sweetness, an innocence to her that blasts through all my defenses as if they aren't even there.

Her face lights up at the sight of the carnival; in spite of myself I think she is so cute I buy an entire roll of tickets, not caring about the cost. "Well,_ lille_ Romelle. . .what do you wish to do first?" Her gaze locks on the Ferris wheel, and she pulls me in that direction; tiny as she is, she nearly yanks me off my feet in her enthusiasm. Five minutes in line later, the attendant is helping her into a car; being a gentleman, I start to take the seat opposite, but Romelle grabs my hand and pulls me down beside her. "Please," she whispers, blushing. "I'm cold, and well. . .could we pretend we're. . . courting? Like some of the other couples I've seen?" I was raised to be a gentleman, but. . . I am only human. No chance I am saying no to THAT plea, and so I sit beside her, letting her nestle up against my side as the Ferris wheel lurches into motion.

As the car rises into the night sky, I point out the Academy, the spaceport, the old Golden Gate Bridge, and other interesting sights. Romelle slips her arm around me as she leans out, peering at the lights of San Francisco, and I find my own arm wrapping around her shoulders. Purely for safety, of course; I would never take advantage. Just as I do, we reach the top of the Ferris wheel, and the ride lurches to a swinging stop that has Romelle shrieking and clutching at me in fear. I have a sinking feeling about this, and my suspicions are confirmed when I look to the ground and see the carny waving two of his four arms at me. "Romelle, _lille,"_ I sigh, turning to her and putting my hands on her shoulders, "Do not be frightened; dere is noting wrong vit de ride."

Those incredible blue eyes blink up at me in confusion. "Then why did it stop so suddenly?"

"Because. . . because it is tradition for dating couples to kiss on top of a Ferris vheel, und de ride operator tinks ve are a couple." I can feel the blush burning my cheeks, and I can't look at her.

"Well," she says softly, "We can't argue with tradition, can we?" Before I can even ask what she's doing, her soft hands are buried in my hair, and she's pulled me down into a kiss that, for all its inexperience and innocence, sets my blood on fire and my heart racing.

_**Romelle**_

Oh. Oh! THIS is what Catera and the other maids giggle about! I never understood the fuss over touching your lips to someone else's, but. . .Blessed Lady, do I understand now. Sven's lips are warm and firm against mine, and as we kiss, I can feel tingles all over my body. He resists at first, but then I feel him relax, pulling me closer, fingers going into my hair. His lips part, and his tongue darts across my lips, teasing them open. I can taste the alcohol he was drinking in the bar, and something else, something spicy and wonderful. Without realizing what I am doing, I move closer to him, hands wandering his tightly muscled chest, lingering where his heart beats wildly. I make a noise in my throat, wanting more of him, and suddenly he's gone. I open my eyes, bewildered and bereft, my heart pounding in my throat, to find him on the other side of the car, blushing and breathing hard. "I. . .I am sorry, _lille_," he says softly, not meeting my eyes. "Dat is not like me at all; I am not dat kind of man."

I reach over and touch his knee hesitantly. "I am not sorry. That was. . .the most wonderful thing I have ever experienced." The ride lurches back into life, and we descend to the ground. Sven helps me out, but touches me only as much as he absolutely has to. Still not looking at me, he suggests that we go and get something to eat at a nearby stand. Miserable, not understanding what I did so wrong, I follow him and wait while he orders for both of us.

_**Sven**_

_Fuck, what is wrong with you, Holgersson? She is not some easy fling, and you are not Lance McClain, to hop in bed at the first provocation!_ I am no virgin, by any means, but neither do I usually act on my urges so quickly. And certainly not with someone so clearly virginal as Romelle. I get pizza and sodas for us, keeping my distance from her in an effort to cool myself down, then sit across the picnic table from her. Only then do I notice how her demeanor has changed. She sits huddled in on herself, looking away from me, as if she expects me to strike her. "Romelle? _Lille_, talk to me; are you all right?"

Her voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. "I am sorry I displeased you. I will leave, if you like."

"Displeased me? _Lille_, you have done no such ting, and I certainly do not vant you to leaf." I lean across the table and cover both of her hands with one of mine, using the other to make her look up at me. "I just. . ." I sigh. "I like you, very much, and I do not want to do tings you are not ready for. It takes no genius to know dat you haf no experience vit men, und in any event, I am not de sort of man who. . . forces himself on a voman de very first date."

"And if I told you I WANTED it?" she asks softly, blue eyes wide and lost. "Sven. . .when I return home, it will be to an arranged marriage, with someone I don't even know. You are the first man who has ever treated me with anything like kindness. Please. . ..." she puts a tiny hand on my arm, and the fire rages in my blood all over again. "Show me what it is to be loved by a man?"

_Gud i himmeln, _how has this girl gotten under my skin so quickly? My mind is screaming at me to remember how I was raised, that I have not known this girl two hours yet, that I never take a girl to my bed so very soon. But it is my heart that answers her, "Are you sure, Romelle? Your first time should be special, vit someone you love. I do not vant to take dat from you."

Romelle gives me a long look, then suddenly fists both hands in my t-shirt and pulls me to her. Before I can even think, she's kissing me with a passion that more than makes up for her inexperience. "I'm sure, Sven," she says huskily when we break apart. "I. . .want my first time with you."

No matter what my mother has taught me about being a gentleman, no matter what my Academy training says about avoiding entanglements, behind all that I am still but a 21 year old man. With the full complement of hormones. With a beautiful girl, that I am falling pretty hard for, all but begging me to take her to my bed. _Faen_, I am only human. "Vell den, _lille," _I answer softly, cupping her cheek in my hand, "Perhaps ve should go find somevhere private, ja?" She nods, wide-eyed, and I take her hand to walk out of the carnival. On the way out, I put the roll of tickets into the hands of a young man with two children clinging to his threadbare coat, not even stopping for his reaction.

As we walk slowly towards the apartment I share with Lance and Keith, I quietly watch the girl at my side. Such a mystery there; she carries herself with a refined air that speaks to me of breeding far above anything on Earth, yet she's shy, almost timid at the same time. _Who are you, Romelle? And how have I fallen in love with you so quickly?_

_**Romelle**_

I'm actually going to do this. I'm walking to a stranger's quarters, making awkward small talk, knowing he is going to take me to his bed and take my innocence. I should be terrified, should never have asked this of him. But. . . it's _Sven. _Gentle, sweet, Sven, who makes me feel things I have never felt before. I want to stay with him forever, but I know that cannot be. So, I will take what I can get.

He lets me into a modest suite, neat but not overly so, clearly in the process of being packed up. Suddenly shy, I sit on the edge of a squashy chair while he sits on a couch next to me. "_Lille_ . . .you are sure of this? If you do not know, I will tell you; alvays for a voman, de first time hurts. I vill do all I can to make it hurt less, but. . .I cannot take de pain avay completely. I vant you to be sure dis is vhat you vant."

Nothing I did not know; the maids think I do not hear them gossip, but to hear Sven so concerned for me brings me to tears. "I'm sure, Sven. Please. . ." I reach out and put my hand on his thigh; I hear him take a ragged breath, then he takes my hand and stands, bringing me to my feet as well.

"All right. . .come den, _kjaereste. . . _sweetheart. Let me love you." He leads me down a short hall to three bedchambers in a semicircle and guides me into the one on the right, hanging a hat on the doorknob before closing and locking it. "For min housemates," he says softly at my curious look. "Dat is our signal dat ve do not vish to be disturbed." I nod nervously and sit on his bed; he sits next to me, taking my hands in his. "Any time you vish to stop, tell me, and I vill, Romelle," he tells me, looking deep into my eyes with his own wonderful blue ones. Then he leans into me and kisses me, soft and gentle, but at the same time there is a fierceness to it that takes my breath. As he kisses me, his hands slide down my shoulders, pushing my borrowed shirt off and scorching my skin where he touches me. As at the carnival, his tongue traces my lips, teasing them open before darting into my mouth. Hesitantly following his lead, I wrap my tongue around his, tasting the carnival food and alcohol and that intoxicating something that is just Sven. I hear him groan and start to pull back, afraid that I've hurt him somehow, but his arms come around me, pulling me close as he lays me back on the bed.

"You are amazing," he says as he breaks the kiss, breathing hard as I am, his blue eyes darker somehow. Slowly his hand comes up my side to cup and caress my breast through my top, and I gasp at the sensation. Incredibly, he laughs at my reaction and continues to play with me, giving little kisses to my neck and collarbone.

"Sven. . . please. . ." Bright Lady, he makes me feel so good. I. .. _want._ I don't know what I want, but I do know I want it. And somehow, Sven understands. Slowly, his eyes never leaving mine, he eases my tank top off, laying me bare as no man has ever seen. Instinctively, my hands come up to cover my breasts, but he captures them in his own.

"Easy, _lille. _ Let me see how beautiful you are. . ." He tosses the top aside, then lies on top of me, kissing down my chest and. . . _Goddess! _I nearly come off the bed as he puts his mouth on my breast; dear heaven, that feels _good._ He looks up at me with a grin. "Oh, I like dat. . ." Where his hips are on top of mine, I feel a hard heat, pushing against me, and suddenly I panic, beating at his chest to get him off me.

Understanding lights up his eyes, and he rolls to my side. "Too fast am I going; forgive me. Vould it help. . . if I undressed and let you look first, _kjaereste? _Let you touch me until you are comfortable?" Shakily I nod, unable to speak, and he stands. The tight black shirt comes off first, revealing tanned skin taut over a strong but not overly-muscled body. I nod to him, almost impatient; fascinating as Sven's chest is, much as I want to stroke it, Polluxian fashion is such that a man's bare chest holds no fear for me. His eyes hold mine as his hands unfasten his jeans and push them off his slim hips, kicking them aside with the remainder of his clothing to stand nude before me. My eyes trail down his body, taking in the muscles that twitch with his ragged breathing, before coming to rest on. . . .Blessed Bright Lady, Guardian of the Stars. _That_ is supposed to fit in _me?_ His manhood stands away from his body, seemingly as big as one of the evergreens around our castle, pulsing with his heartbeat. Slowly he crawls onto the bed next to me, careful not to touch me, and lies on his back, hands beneath his head. "Look and touch all you vant, _lille," _he says in a strangely roughened voice. "I vant you to be comfortable vit dis, or ve do not continue."

My hands shake as I sit up and trail my fingers across his chest and flat stomach, both of which jerk under my touch as he sucks in a sharp breath. Startled, I pull my hands back and look to Sven uncertainly. "Go on, _kjaereste,_" he says softly. "You are not hurting me; to be honest, I like your touch, very much. Please, do not stop. . ." Reassured, I continue my exploration, hesitantly wrapping my hand around the thick shaft at the center of his body. I can feel his pulse in it, beating frantically, and the heat from it nearly burns my hand. I stroke it experimentally, bringing my other hand up to cup the roundness hanging beneath it, and am rewarded by Sven's body going stiff as he hisses what sounds like a prayer in his own language. "_Gud i himmeln_. . . that feels so good, _lille. _More. . ." He puts his hand on mine, moving it to grip him tighter, rocking his hips into my strokes. Guided by some instinct, I lean over to kiss the tip of his member, and dart my tongue out to swirl around the head. Sven arches up and cries out; before I can do or say anything, my mouth is filled with an incredibly thick, salty fluid that makes me gag before I reflexively swallow it. "Are you all right, Romelle? I am so very sorry. . ." Sven is propped on his elbows, watching me worriedly. "I did not intend for that to happen so soon. . . I just. . ." He blushes; it's the sweetest thing I've ever seen. "I. . .have desired you, since first I saw you in de bar, und den your touch felt so vonderful. . .I came before I knew vhat I vas doing."

I swallow again, finding myself liking the taste and wanting more. "I'm fine; what WAS that, Sven?"

Blushing harder, he tells me of what he calls an "orgasm" or "coming", of how a person's touch can make you feel good, then better and better until it is like an explosion in your skin. "And for a man, _kjaereste. . ._de fluid you tasted is part of that. Vhen a man makes love to a voman, if. . .precautions are not taken, if de time is right, dat fluid inside her is vhat gives her a child." He's sitting up now, and cups my face in his hands, kissing me gently. "You vere. . . _fantastik. _May I please you as you pleased me?"

I nod, strangely excited to experience what he says his touch will bring to me, and he kisses me again, laying me back against his pillow. Slowly he skims his hand over my skin, my stomach fluttering at the roughness of his callused hands as he kneads and caresses my breasts. "That's nice," I say softly, and he grins at me before kissing his way down from my lips to my collarbone to take my breast in his mouth as he did before. And Goddess, what he does. . . I can't lay still, I squirm with a need I can't name, feeling a fire build between my legs. Sven glances up at me, and brings a hand up to slowly unfasten my jeans, working his fingers down to touch where no hand but mine has ever been. "OH! Sven!" I gasp, rocking against him. Goddess, this feels. . .delicious, and I want more. He chuckles and kisses me before moving to kneel at my feet, easing my jeans and panties down and off. I blush and reflexively start to curl away from him, hiding my nudity, but he stops me with those hands on my hips.

"So beautiful. . . let me look, _kjaereste. _Let me touch. . ." His fingers deftly part my legs, moving up my thighs to stroke me. . .I gasp as his touch sparks something in me, and I writhe helplessly, calling his name again and again as he works. Then. . . Sweet Lady, he. . . puts his mouth on me there, and. . .the world explodes. I hear myself scream his name, and the world goes black.

When I come back to my senses, Sven is sitting on the side of the bed, eyes worried, wiping my face with a cool cloth. "Tank God," he breathes when he sees my eyes open. "You had me vorried, _kjaereste. _Are you all right?"

"I. . . I think so. . ." I sit up slowly, Sven's strong hand at my back supporting me. "That was. .. is it always like that? And it didn't hurt!"

He's fighting not to laugh at me, I can tell. "Romelle, _lille_. . . ve haf not yet made luf. I haf pleasured you, as you haf me, but. . .dere is more. Do you still vant to go on? Ve can stop here, and dere vill be no pain."

"I told you. . . I want you to make love to me, I don't care if it hurts. Please, Sven? I want to know ALL of it!" I look up at him, shyly begging, and his face softens. Gently he eases me back down, shifting to sit on his heels between my spread legs, his member pointing to my center.

"Take a breath, _elskede_, beloved," he says softly as he moves forward. "I will be as gentle as I can." I follow his instructions, absently filing the new endearment to ask about later, and feel a pressure between my legs that quickly builds to an uncomfortable ache. "Easy," he whispers, that strain in his voice again. "Almost there. . ." He captures my mouth in a passionate kiss, wrapping his arms around me as a sudden sharp pain blooms in my center. I can't help it; I scream, and Sven freezes. "Sh. . . sh. . ." He rains tiny kisses over my face and neck, taking my tears as they fall. "Romelle, _lille, elskede. . ._I am so sorry. . . breathe for me, the pain vill pass. . .I love you. . ."

I lay still in his arms, listening to his whispered words, and soon, as he promised, the pain eases, leaving a need in its wake. I whimper and move beneath him; understanding, he starts to move himself, matching his movements to mine, still kissing me gently and calling soft endearments. I thought what he did with his hands and mouth was amazing. . . this I have no words for, but to dig my nails into his back and scream his name. Repeatedly. He calls mine in answer, moving faster and faster in me. All too soon, the fireworks burst beneath my skin, driving me up against his body before dropping me to the bed, limp and spent. Sven thrusts a few more times, then cries out, burying himself deep inside me and freezing for a few minutes before falling beside me, his arms still wrapped around me.

I feel. .. .sore, in a good way, and tired, so very tired. I can't help a yawn; Sven smiles at it, kisses me as it ends, and pulls the covers over us. "Sleep, _lille _Romelle; I vill vake you early enough to take you home." I know I should not stay, that Father and Avok will be looking for me soon, but. . . I'm so tired, and Sven's arms and body feel SO good around me. As I snuggle into him and fade into sleep, I feel him drop a kiss on top of my head and drowsily whisper, "I love you, Romelle. Alvays. Sleep vell."

_**Sven**_

Some time in the predawn darkness, I wake to the sound of my com softly beeping, and an unfamiliar presence in my bed. Memory quickly asserts itself, and I smile at the memory of what Romelle and I did in the night. _Min gud,_ for all her inexperience, never have I had so incredible a lover. I want to stay with her, always, and resolve to figure out how to do just that later today. In the meantime. . . a glance at my com shows a Priority One recall; I have to report in 30 minutes. Swearing softly, I ease out of a still-sleeping Romelle's arms and head for the bathroom; ten minutes later, I'm showered and in uniform, leaving her a note that I'll be back as soon as I can, asking her to stay, before slipping out of the apartment and heading for Garrison headquarters.

It looks like they've called in every officer and cadet available in the Northern Hemisphere! The parade ground is packed with people; I soon find my own section and stand with Keith and Lance as Marshal Graham walks to the front of the formation, flanked by two angry looking men in togas, one about the Marshal's age with white hair and beard, the other younger, about my age, with flaming red hair. They take up silent positions behind Graham as he calls us to attention and begins to speak. "The gentlemen behind me are King Cova and Crown Prince Avok of Planet Pollux; they are here with their daughter and sister for the galactic Peace Summit. This morning, they awoke to find the princess missing, and have come to us for assistance in locating her. A recent hologram of her is being downloaded to each of your coms as we speak." Mine beeps as he finishes speaking, and I absently call up the image. As it comes to life, I freeze in horror, staring. Lance and Keith both notice, and turn to ask what's wrong, but I can't answer. I don't dare. The missing princess of Pollux? I know her as Romelle, and she is asleep in my bed, in a room still filled with the heady scent of our lovemaking.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Sven**_

As soon as assignments are passed out, I make a weak excuse to Keith and head for home, so angry I can barely see straight. Keith doesn't buy the excuse, as I knew he wouldn't, and follows me, as does Lance, both asking what the hell is going on. I ignore them, stalking through the early morning San Francisco streets focused on nothing but getting answers from the woman who possibly has just cost me everything I have ever worked for.

She's still asleep in my bed, curled around my pillow. How can such a manipulative woman look so _forbannet_ innocent? "Romelle. You have to vake up." She blinks sleepily, then her face lights up when she sees me. I kill that pretty quickly. "Good morning, _Your Highness._ Sleep well, _Princess?"_ The color drains from her face and tears well up in her eyes; I keep pushing. "Ja, imagine my surprise, to be called in to look for de missing Prinsesse of Pollux, only to realize I know exactly vhere she is! Hope you enjoyed yourself; it vill cost me dearly."

"Sven, please, let me explain. . ." she sits up and reaches out to me; I jerk away.

"Explain? Vhat is dere to explain? _Gud i himmeln_, I vill be court-martialed for taking advantage of you! Und den dere is vhat your vater vill do. . ." I rant for I don't know how long, until a hand clamps my shoulder.

"Sven, enough; calm the fuck down," Lance says in Norwegian, and I realize with a start that I've been screaming at Romelle in my native language. "Now," Lance says quietly, shifting back to English for Romelle's benefit, "What in seven hells is going on here, Viking? I remember the lady from Carsten's last night; how did we get from there to your bed?"

Quickly I go over last night's events for him and Keith, then glare at Romelle. "Vhy? Vhy did you not tell me who you vere? I vould haf done tings so very differently."

Before she can say anything, Keith jumps in, jerking me around to face him. "Are you out of your mind? You _know_ the regs about attachments prior to deployment, and to sleep with a _princess?_ I didn't think you were that stupid, Sven."

"Everyvon is not de monk you are, Kogane. Und as I said; if I had known she vas de prinsesse, I vould haf done tings differently. _Men du er__perfekt,__ikke sant?" _Keith can make me lose my temper like no other ever has, and he's coming close right now.

Lance gets in between us. "Back off, Keith. He didn't know she was a princess, and the regs only _discourage_ attachments. Now, how about you and me go do something elsewhere while these two sort things out? Really don't want to clean your blood up, and Sven's about ready to spill it for you." Before Keith or I can say anything, he has dragged Keith out of my room, leaving me alone with Romelle.

_**Romelle**_

Everything's gone so wrong! And oh, Goddess, it's all my fault! I was so happy this morning, waking up to see Sven standing there, so handsome in his uniform. Then it all came crashing down when he called me Princess, revealed that Father and Avok were looking for me, and that he _knew_. His words were so harsh; I know he hates me now. How could he not? He's demanding an explanation, but all I can do is curl up in a miserable ball, sobbing. What can I do; I've lost him.

Through my misery I hear his friends argue with him, then the door closes. A minute later, there's a weight on the bed, and a hand clamped firmly on my shoulder, pulling me up to face a very angry Sven. "Now. Talk to me, Prinsesse. Vhat are you playing at? Did you tink it vould be entertaining to toy vit a Garrison officer, maybe even ruin his career? Is dat how you amuse yourself, Highness? Tell me!" His voice, his expression. . .it's Father all over again, thundering about the betrothal I WOULD accept, and suddenly it's too much. I wail and tear myself from his grip, burrowing under the blankets away from him, shaking so hard I can hardly breathe.

_**Sven**_

She's curled up under the blankets, clearly shaking, and I can hear her gasping sobs. My anger runs away like water through the fjords. _Min gud_, how could I frighten her so? I _know_ the signs of an abused woman, and she has shown them all since we met. "Romelle, _lille_, I am sorry. I just. . .if dis gets out, I am in a lot of trouble. Please, tell me vhy?"

She shrinks away from me. "Please believe me, Sven; I never intended to hurt anyone. I told you the truth. . . I am to be married when we return to Pollux, to an absolute beast. I've heard horrible things about how he treats women, but I have no choice. My father has decreed that I will accept this marriage. So, last night, I wanted. . ." she takes a breath. "I wanted to _live_, just for a little while. To know what it's like to be a normal girl. All I intended was to have a few drinks in that bar before slipping home. Then that man grabbed me, and you. . ." she shakes her head. "No one has ever been so kind to me, or so gentle, and I was enjoying it so much. I know you must hate me, and I cannot blame you. But. . .what I said, what I did last night, was real. I. . . care for you a lot, Sven. I think I even love you." The tears start again. "But, if you want to send me away, give me back to my father, I understand. I deserve no better."

"My poor _lille,_" I say softly. "I do not hate you; I spoke in anger, but I understand vhy you did what you did now. And. . .crazy as it sounds, I think I love you too. I feel as though I haf vaited all my life for you." I tilt her face up to me, and kiss her gently, swearing internally at how she trembles. "Ve vill vork dis out, _kjaereste._ Look, vhy don't you get a shower, den ve vill sit down und talk about it, ja?" I help her up and show her where everything is in my bathroom, then walk out to the living room, where I know Keith and Lance are waiting.

Keith looks up guiltily as I drop into my favorite chair. "I'm sorry, Sven. I really overreacted. Still getting used to this command thing."

"You tink?" I ask dryly, and he has the grace to blush. "Over und done vit, Keit. De question now is, how do we fix dis, vitout me in de brig or dead?"

Lance comes from the kitchen with coffee for the three of us. "Only you, Sven. _Princess. _Why did she have to be a _princess_, for God's sake? And you head over heels for her; don't tell me you aren't."

I take the coffee from him with a glower that turns to a sigh. "Ja, I am. Vhat do I do, min bror? I cannot leaf her to dis horrible marriage she talks about."

"Whatever we do, it can't have our, and specifically YOUR, names anywhere near it." Keith takes a sip of his coffee. "I'm not convinced we should do anything; from what I've read, arranged marriages are a fact of life for royal families. What makes this one so awful?"

"It is to Prince Lotor of the Ninth Kingdom of the Drule Supremacy." The soft voice startles all three of us; Romelle is standing in my bedroom door, wrapped in my bathrobe. "And I would rather die than become his wife."

Well, THAT'S the last thing any of us expected to hear. Romelle comes and huddles on the sofa as we all gape; typically, Lance finds his voice first. "You've gotta be kidding. Your dad wants you to marry THAT bastard? Does he KNOW what Lotor does to women?"

"Worse than that," Keith says quietly. "What game is he playing? Marrying Romelle off to the Ninth Kingdom heir, while at the same time cozying up to the Alliance?"

"Father wants to be on the winning side," Romelle says quietly, looking down at her hands. "He's not sure what side that is yet, so he decided to be friendly to both sides."

"So he just. . . trows you avay, like yesterday's newspaper? I vill not allow dis to happen! I-I vill resign my commission, take you to Norvay und hide you. . ."

Three people cut me off immediately; Keith and Lance nod to Romelle. "No, Sven," she says gently, leaning over to touch my arm hesitantly. "You've worked too hard to throw everything away for someone you just met. I won't let you do that."

"But. . .," Keith says slowly. "Romelle DOES needs to be protected. If we take her to Marshal Graham, she tells him what she knows of King Cova's scheming, I'm positive the Alliance would grant her asylum."

_**Romelle**_

They're going to take me away from him. The dark-haired man, Keith, I think his name is, is talking about asylum and how to get into see someone called Marshal Graham. I quit listening when I realize it means I'll never see Sven again. I fold my hands in my lap, fighting tears. Nothing good ever stays in my life; my mother, my nanny . . . now Sven, whom I have come to love so much in so short a period. I'm tempted to throw my arms around his neck and beg him to take me to whatever "Norvay" is, but I can't. He's a Garrison officer; I can't let him throw that away for my foolish wants. He deserves better.

Calloused fingers trail down my jaw, turning my face up to look at a worried Sven. "_Lille,_ talk to me," he says softly. "Vhat do YOU vant to do?"

All my royal training, all the cruel conditioning of my father and Avok, vanishes at the look in his eyes. "I don't want to leave you!" I wail, burying my face in his broad shoulder. A small part of my mind wonders if he's as surprised as I am as my outburst continues. "Please, Sven! You're the best thing that's ever happened to me! Don't send me away!"

Strong arms wrap around me, and his lips kiss my hair. "Sssh, _kjaereste_. I vill not send you avay. I love you, remember? Ve vill vork dis out, I promise."

"Besides, if we can sell Graham on it, it's the best possible protection." This from the red-haired man Sven called Lance. He leans forward, green eyes intent as he outlines his point. "Think about it. Cova finds out Romelle's got asylum from the Alliance, where's he going to look for her? Locked away in an Alliance facility, or wrapped in the arms of some brand new commander with a goofy accent while his devastatingly handsome and charming friends help guard her?" He grins, and I can't help but laugh.

"See, _elske?_" Sven whispers to me. "My brothers and I, ve vill take care of you. Promise."

"We have to sell Marshal Graham on this first." There's a note of authority in Keith's voice that seems out of place on someone so young; not even my father's oldest commanders speak so. "Sven, call him; play the favorite nephew card and get us in ASAP. Lance, I need you to get over to where we're supposed to be searching; report in to Captain DeFuras, call no joy," he gives me an ironic look, "and get our next search grid. That should keep the heat off us for a bit." Sven eases me off his lap with a quick kiss; he and Lance both salute Keith before Lance leaves the apartment and Sven vanishes behind me.

Keith picks up a datapad and starts typing; I shrink into a corner of the sofa, trying to be as small and unobtrusive as possible. Women aren't supposed to impose themselves on men, especially when they're busy. My movement catches his attention, though, and he looks up with a shy smile. "Are you all right, Princess? Can I get you anything? We have coffee, or tea if you would rather."

"N-no, please don't go to any trouble." I shrink further under his direct gaze. Sven, where's Sven? He's gone, I'm here alone with this strange man, what's going to happen? This room is so small, so hot, I can't breathe, I need Sven. . .

"Princess? Are you all right?" Keith leans over and puts his hand on my arm, and I can't help myself.

"Get away from me!" I scream, jumping out of the chair and as far away from him as I can manage. As Keith sits stunned, I sink to the floor, curling in a ball and sobbing.

_**Sven**_

__Romelle screams just as I'm putting my com away, and the sound terrifies me, even though I know she's perfectly safe with Keith. I fly out of my room to find her crumpled on the floor, crying her heart out, with Keith staring at her dumbfounded. I drop beside her, pulling her into my lap, holding her close as I whisper to her. For a few minutes she flails, still caught in her panic, managing to land a good strike to my nose. Finally, my accent and cologne break the panic, and she relaxes against me, still crying.

"I had no idea," Keith says in soft, slow Norwegian. I taught him and Lance my native language because I tend to revert to it if I'm sick or hurt, but Lance is far more fluent. "I could tell she's been traumatized, but I didn't know. . .all I did was touch her arm!"

I glance up from rocking Romelle. "There is no way you could have known, Keith. Don't blame yourself." She's starting to calm down a bit, so I stand with her in my arms and head back into my room, curling up on the bed with her. "Shhh, it's all right, Romelle. You're safe, I'm here. Breathe deep for me, relax, ja? Keit vould never hurt you, nor vould Lance. Und I vill keep you safe."

Gradually I feel the tension leave her body, though she still clings to me. "I'm so sorry, Sven. What your friend must think of me! And your uniform is going to be all wrinkled!" She starts to scramble up, but I hold her in place.

"I haf other uniforms; I vould change before ve go to Onkel Michael's office anyvay. Und Keit knows vhen a voman has been traumatized; he vill tink no ill of you." Gently I wipe away her tears. "I know dis vill take time, but. . . you are as safe vit Keit und Lance as you are vit me. Dey vill protect you just as much as I vill."

She nods, looking up at me wide-eyed as she touches my throbbing nose. "Oh, Sven. . .did I do that?"

"You did; Lance vill be upset vit you. He has been trying to break my nose for tree years, und you do it by accident." I smile and kiss her to show I'm teasing, then get up to go wash my face.

Romelle is sitting up when I come back in. "Wh-what did the Marshal say?"

I sigh. "He is not happy; vit you going missing, und de summit, he is very busy. But. . .he promised to make time for us at lunch."

Her eyes fly wide. "Sven! Oh, Goddess! I can't. . . I shouldn't. . .I don't have the right clothes! He will never believe I'm Princess Romelle!" Before I can do or say anything, she's pacing my room, eyes calculating. Suddenly she grabs my shirt from last night and puts it on, examining herself in the mirror. "What do you think of this?"

I find myself swallowing against a suddenly dry throat. My shirt hangs to below her knees, and her tiny frame is swallowed in it, but. .. .somehow it sets my blood on fire, seeing her like that. "I tink you look _forbanna_ good in my shirt," I finally get out. "But...it needs someting."

She eyes herself in the mirror for a minute, then her eyes light up. "Of course! A belt! Do you have one, Sven?"

I can't help but laugh. "None of mine vould fit you, _kjaereste. _Let me see if Keith has something." I go back out to where Keith is still sitting; after reassuring him that I am all right, as is Romelle, I make my request. He thinks for a minute, then I see the light come on, and he disappears into his room, coming out a few minutes later with a folded piece of turquoise cloth.

"This should work," he says quietly. "It doesn't fit me since we started all that weight training. You remember how to tie an obi, or do you want me to do it?"

"I tink I can do it; safer for Romelle dat vay." I take the belt from him and go back into my room, where Romelle stands waiting. Quickly I tie the sash around her tiny waist, sneaking a feel of her curves as I wrap it, then pull her into my arms. "No matter vhat happens today, alvays vill I love you, Romelle. Und no matter vhere dey send you, I vill find you. I svear it."

She nods, blue eyes wide and fearful. "I'll always love you, Sven. No matter what, I'll wait for you." I tighten my arms around her and lift her for a long, deep kiss, doing my best to memorize how she feels, tastes, smells in my arms. All too soon, I have to end the kiss, and set her on her feet. She looks up at me for a minute, raising a hand to cup my cheek, then drops it to my arm. I cover it with my other hand, and we go join Keith. Fifteen minutes later, Lance returns, and we set out for Marshal Graham's office.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Sven**_

Onkel Michael was my father's best friend, his Academy roommate. I grew up with him coming to dinner, telling stories and teaching me the first basics of being a Garrison officer. He was a navigator himself when I was little, was the first one to show me the stars, gave me the thirst for exploration that has put me where I am.

But it is not Onkel Michael I am on my way to face now. It is Space Marshal Graham, my ultimate superior, and I come with an intergalactic scandal that could end my career before it begins. But I see no other alternative. Romelle is terrified of being sent back to marry Prince Lotor, and of losing me. She clings to my arm as we make our way through San Francisco, and I can feel her trembling as we take our seats on the hovertram. "Relax, _kjaereste,_" I whisper to her, ignoring protocol to slip my arms around her and pull her into my lap. "I am here, you are safe, and I vill not let anything happen to you, I swear it."

She looks up at me with those lost blue eyes. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sven. Or get in trouble because of me. Maybe . . . maybe I should go with Father and Avok."

"Here, now... none of that." I cup her face in one hand. "Ve talked about dis, remember? Vhat I do is my own choice. And I choose to help you, to protect you, because I love you and vant you vit me." She gives me a ragged smile, and I lean down to kiss her. "It vill be all right, belief me." She seems reassured by that, and we ride the rest of the way to the Academy in silence.

_**ROMELLE**_

__I don't want to lose him, I don't want to leave him, but. . .I don't want him hurt either. And if I stay with him. . . Goddess, Father will kill him for "defiling" me. I don't want to think about what Lotor would do to him. . . no, I can't let that happen! Away, I have to get away, keep him safe. . . .

A strong pair of arms around my waist pull me against a broad chest, a whiff of cologne intrudes on my internal panic. "It's all right, Romelle," Sven whispers, and my panic finally breaks. "Calm down; I can feel your heart pounding. You're safe, remember?"

"But you aren't," I whimper into his chest, feeling his strong heart beat against my cheek. "Sven, please. . . Father will kill you for touching me, and Lotor. . ." I can't even finish the sentence, I'm shaking so hard.

A finger comes up beneath my chin, tipping my face up to look into Sven's gentle gaze. "I can take care of myself, _kjaereste._ I vill not allow you to be abused to spare my own life. I cannot." Our vehicle has stopped; Keith and Lance step out ahead of us. Between them and Sven, I am very effectively hidden from view. Sven offers his arm, formal as any of my father's courtiers, and I take it, knowing it is all he can offer in uniform at his Academy. He tucks my hand tighter into his elbow and gives it a brief squeeze. "Remember I love you, and I will do whatever is needed to keep you safe. So vill Keit und Lance." The other two turn and grin at me when Sven says their names, and I have to giggle. Lance tosses me a goofy salute, then turns around just in time to give the real thing to a passing officer. All too soon, we're in an elaborate office, waiting for an older man to notice us.

_**SVEN**_

Onkel Michael is on a COM call when we enter his office, one that (a) is apparently about Romelle, and (b) is not going well. All we can do is stand at rigid attention, pretending as hard as we can that we hear nothing, until he ends the call and glares at me. "I don't have time for social visits, Commander Holgersson," he snaps. Not a good sign; no one here but us, and he always calls me Sven in private. "State your business, so I can get back to trying to find this damned princess before Pollux declares war on the Alliance."

_Faen. . ._I did not know it had gotten that bad already. I can feel Romelle shaking between me and Lance, but before I can say anything, she's stepping forward, her head held high like the princess she is. "You can stop looking, Marshal," she says calmly, though I can see her lips trembling. "I am Princess Romelle, and I formally request asylum from the Galaxy Alliance."

The look Onkel Michael fixes the three of us with could cut diamonds. "Captain Kogane. . .explain, _briefly_, just how you three got involved in this?" I hear Keith gulp, but he calmly gives an abbreviated version of the story I told him and Lance this morning. "I see. . . .and why did you not report in _immediately? _King Coba is very anxious to get his daughter back; she is loved and missed on Pollux, and her fiancé is eager to see her."

Wrong thing to say. . . Romelle goes white beside me, and I just manage to catch her before she hits the ground. Without asking permission, I carry her over to the office couch and settle with her in my lap, rubbing her back and talking to her softly. As she starts to revive, I look up at Onkel Michael. "Sir, vit all due respect . . . King Coba and Prince Avok have never been anyting but abusive to her. I did not vant to send her back to dat if I could help it. Und de fiancé dat is 'eager to see her'? Dat vould be Prince Lotor of de Nint Kingdom."

"Are you sure?" Onkel slowly drops into his desk chair, eyes never leaving me and Romelle. "That's quite an accusation. What evidence do you have?"

"For starters, sir, we've all been trained in observation, and in the signs of emotional trauma." Lance speaks up for the first time. "Romelle shows all the classic signs we were taught to look for, and I really don't think she would've run away if her life was all sunshine and roses. As for the engagement . . . why would she lie?"

"Please, sir," Romelle says softly, looking down at the floor. "It's true, all of it. Please help me."

Michael looks at her, then me. "And just what do you propose? You four came in here like you had a plan."

"Let her stay with us, at least for now," Keith answers. "She trusts Sven, she's coming to trust Lance and me, and we're more than capable of handling any threats."

"You three are scheduled to deploy with Lieutenants Stoker and Garrett in three weeks," is the answer, with a shake of Onkel's shaggy head. "Your mission is too important; we have to come up with a more viable option."

Romelle's shaking against me now, and I realize I'm going to have to get drastic. "Sir, this IS the only viable option. As Keit said, ve are de only vons Romelle trusts. Besides. . ." I swallow hard, knowing what I have to say next is not going to go over well with anyone in the room. "Romelle and I vere. . . intimate last night. I. . .got caught up in de moment, und I did not tink to use protection." Romelle stiffens in my arms, then buries her face in my tunic. "She could very vell be carrying my child right now."

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever known you to do, Sven," the marshal growls. I cannot argue with him; I completely lost my head the minute I saw Romelle last night. "What are your plans to resolve this diplomatic nightmare you've dropped in my lap?"

My arms tighten around Romelle as I answer, "I feel as tough I haf known Romelle all my life, und I love her, very much. If she vill haf me, I vant to marry her. Den. . . if she cannot stay vit me vhen ve deploy, I vill take her home to stay vit my mother until I can send for her."

"Please don't talk about me like I'm not sitting here," Romelle says, so softly I can barely hear her, then she sits up. "Marshal Graham. . . please, I want to stay with Sven, but. . .not if it puts his life or his career in danger. I won't do that to him."

"Oh, his career's in no danger, Highness," Onkel answers, startled. "It's been obvious how you feel about each other since you walked in here; I'm not in the habit of getting rid of my best pilots for falling in love. And believe me, Sven is more than a match for anything that gets thrown at him."

"You know. . ." Lance says slowly, clearly thinking out loud, "If you can get our. . . contact to agree to it, coming on our mission might be the safest thing for Romelle. No one would know to look for her with us, and we can easily protect her."

Onkel nods slowly. "You make a valid point, McClain. . . I will speak to your contact, I suspect there will be no problem. You three. . .I want you out of New Francisco until the summit is over. Take Romelle to Norway; Anna will murder all three of you if Sven marries someone she hasn't met."

My shudders are mirrored by Keith and Lance. "Gods forbid. . . thank you, Marshal. . . you won't regret this." The three of us salute sharply; when Onkel returns it, I give Romelle my arm and we head for home.


End file.
